Still, Still, Still
by wilma.de.worde
Summary: <html><head></head>Ficlet One-Off. John is working overnight and Sherlock tells the boys a bedtime story. (Makes slightly more sense if you read Pere Noel especially. William, Hamish, stories of Mary. Stupid fluff for Monday.)</html>


'It's too early to sleep…' Hamish whined, flopping onto the bed. His dramatic denial lost its effect as he burrowed beneath the eiderdown, eyes already growing heavy. 'Why can't we stay up for Papa?'

'He's working the overnight, darling. He won't be back until morning.' Sherlock pulled a hanger from the wardrobe and hung up his jacket, pulling out his pyjamas and a t-shirt and kicking off his shoes.

'Didn't he work the overnight last week?' Will's hair was still damp from the bath.

'He did, yes.' Sherlock spotted a bit of toothpaste on his chin and tugged him over to wipe it off, ignoring his weak protest.

'It should be someone else's turn,' piped Hamish sagely. ''S not fair, him working nights all the time.'

'I quite agree, but that's locum work for you. You know he wouldn't have it any other way.' He nudged Will toward the bed before slipping off his trousers and tugging on his pyjama bottoms.

'I know…' Hamish grumbled as he snuggled deeper into the mattress. 'I don't like him being gone at night.'

Sherlock glanced over with a smile, noting Will's carefully downcast eyes. 'I don't either, darling.' He sat on the edge of the bed, ruffling Will's shaggy hair and tickling Hamish's covered foot. 'But just think: you'll wake up in the morning, and there he'll be. And quite cross to find you in his spot.' Hamish giggled as he squeezed his toe. Will rolled his eyes but grinned none the less.

'Dad?' he said.

'Hm?'

'Can I see-?'

'May I-'

'_May I _see your scar?' he huffed. 'Please?' Hamish sat up as well, his eyes wide and eager. Sherlock's eyes flicked between them.

'You never ask your papa that.'

Will shrugged. 'He gets weird about it.'

He chuffed on a laugh. 'He really does. Alright, why not?' He stood and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it in the hamper before sitting down with them again. Hamish untangled himself from the eiderdown and clambered closer, his fingers reaching to touch the white, puckered skin. Will looked on, the old, impish tick at the corner of his lip.

'How did it happen?' he asked.

'You know how it happened.'

'Tell it again?'

'Please?' Hamish bounced, his chestnut curls falling into his eyes. His fingers curled around the old dog tags, tugging at his father's neck. 'I want to hear the story!'

'Alright, settle down.' He stood and went in search of his-well, _John's_-t-shirt. 'In bed, both of you. I'll tell the story.'

Hamish grinned and dashed beneath the covers. Will helped him get comfortable before climbing in himself. Sherlock clicked on the bedside lamp and turned off the main light, pulling on his shirt before snuggling in beside Hamish. His small body curled into him, worming the necklace out from beneath the cotton of Sherlock's shirt and fingering it absently. Sherlock kissed his forehead and met Will's eager gaze. 'Before you were born-'

'Me?'

'Well, yes, darling; you're younger than Will, remember?'

'You weren't pacific!'

'_Specific_, Mish,' Will muttered. 'Don't interrupt.' Sherlock smiled at him. Hamish grunted against his collar.

'Before _either _of you were born, your papa was married to Will's mum.'

'And she was a spy!'

'She _was_, yes, but she wasn't at that time. She was busy being Will's mum. Quiet now, darling; your brother has an excellent right hook and he might just use it.' Hamish giggled and stilled. The eiderdown shifted as Will squeezed his side. 'Well, your papa and I didn't know it, but she was in an awful lot of trouble. There was a very bad man who knew her secret and he wanted to expose her and hurt your papa.'

'Why would he want to do that?'

'Mish…' Will groaned.

'He was a bully. Bullies like to hurt people. He knew that if he hurt Will's mum, he'd hurt Papa. And if he hurt Papa, he'd hurt me, too.'

'That's not very nice.'

'He wasn't a nice man. Your papa and I were trying to stop him. We were in his office looking for something we could use against him. But someone else was already there.'

'And that was Will's mum!'

Sherlock sighed. 'Hamish, darling, would you prefer to tell this story? You seem to know it so well.'

'No, you tell it!'

'I'd_ like_ to.'

'Then-'

Will growled and squeezed him harder. 'That means shut it, Mish.'

'Oh.' Hamish pressed his face into Sherlock's chest. 'Sorry.'

'_Anyway_, someone was there already and they had the bad man cornered. I saw it happening and thought it was another woman he'd been bullying, a politician who'd grown desperate. And then she turned around… And Will's mum was looking at me.' Hamish gasped softly. Will bit back a laugh. 'And in the confusion, a gun went off and I was shot. Right in my chest. Will's mum called the ambulance and saved my life.' Will flushed and ducked his head, his shy pride radiating over them.

'She seems like a nice lady.'

'She was an excellent lady, Hamish. You're both very lucky to have such wonderful mums.'

Hamish yawned, rubbing his face into Sherlock's collar. 'Our dads are pretty good, too,' he murmured, drifting off to sleep.

Will lay pressed against his brother, waiting for his breathing to slow completely before he spoke. 'Do you miss her, Dad?'

'Your mum?' He nodded. 'Very much so, yes. She was one of my best friends in the world.'

'Does Papa?'

'I'm sure he does.' His hand found Will's and wrapped around the growing fingers. 'Your papa loved her very much.'

'More than he loves you?'

It was an interesting question. He pondered it a while. 'I honestly don't know. You'd have to ask him about that.'

He looked away, curling tight around Hamish's sleeping frame. 'I know it isn't right to think about, and I know she loved me lots. And I love her, too, kind of, even though I don't remember her. But…I wouldn't want to grow up without you.'

'Will.' Sherlock waited until Will met his eyes. His fingers traced his delicate nose and zygoma, both so much like hers. 'I promise you that would never have happened. Not while I still had breath in my lungs.'

Will scrunched the corner of his mouth in that odd little half-smile no one had taught him. He settled into his brother's back. 'Seventy-six,' he whispered.

Sherlock smiled and laced their fingers together. 'Seventy-six,' he agreed.


End file.
